


I want a world with your colors in it

by RandomLeo



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Discovering emotions, I love my doctor and i'll give him what he deserves, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-12-22 20:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21082280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomLeo/pseuds/RandomLeo
Summary: For as long as he can remember, the world was something he couldn't really see. What others seemed to get so easily, he had always struggled to understand. For years, he lived an empty life that he never questioned.But when a chance to change, to find out what's wrong, comes, he may find something more than just an answer.After so long in an empty life, void of color, a new beginning might the first step to discover something about himself, and his world.(Or, a man who, upon changing his life, starts to discover what are emotions, and why he never understood them. And all the weight that comes with them)





	1. Emptiness

The alarm goes off at 6:00.

He wakes up after 2 minutes watching the ceiling of a dark room. Goes out to the kitchen. Prepares some coffee and toasts. Eats. Then takes a shower, gets dressed, and then goes to work.

It’s 7:20. The bus takes exactly 5 minutes to arrive, and he takes it. 25 minutes later, he’s at the front door of his work at Joja’s. He marks his entrance, and then goes to his office. There is paperwork waiting from yesterday, reports and numbers he must pass to digital. Time passes. At 2:00 p.m. he has lunch at the cafeteria. People around him talks loudly. About how boring is the job. About how their backs are killing them for sitting too long. He notices that his back aches. Maybe it’s because of that. He doesn’t know.

Lunch ends at 2:45. More work comes. Time passes. Now it’s 5:00. Time’s up. A mark. Then a 25 minute bus back home. He makes some quick dinner and then eats while watching tv. Then he reads a mystery book. Or browse something about horror and fictional organizations hiding anomalies in the net. Until 11:00. Then he goes to sleep.

The same routine repeats itself until Sunday. That day is slow. The shows in Sunday are confusing. Nothing interesting in Reddit or Youtube. He feels something strange when he decides to go back to his bed and wait until 11:00, so he can sleep again and the week starts anew.

The same routine, for the last six years since graduation.

His parents call him from time to time to know how he’s doing. The talk is always the same. “Is work fine?” “Yes” “Are you eating properly?” “Yes” “What about friends in work” “Don’t have any.” “Must be boring for you then” “I guess” “Well, I’m glad you’re fine. Remember to visit for your next vacation” “Okay”.

But instead of the usual goodbyes, there is a strange silence.

_“… Are you happy with your life?”_

He doesn’t know.

He remembers people in work talking about it. That routine is boring, or that Joja is a dead-end job. That people can’t be happy with something like that.

But he doesn’t know. And he feels strange for it. Does everyone feel like this? What do they feel, exactly? He doesn’t get it. Should he feel bored, or trapped, or discontent with his life?

Why?

What are boredom, or discontent, or all those thing you supposedly _feel_ in the first place?

What _is_ feel?

—… I’m okay.

_“…If you say so. Take care, alright?”_

—Alright.

He tries to think really hard that night. Since he was a kid, that word was really strange to him. “Emotion”. People around him seemed to get it, but he never understood. What was happiness? What was sadness? Why kids around him cried when he said things to them? Why, when he became a teenager, people around him looked at him weirdly when he said he didn’t get the appeal in the opposite sex, or even any sex for that matter? 

He remembers something a girl said to him once. She asked him if he wanted to go out with her and he said yes, because for some reason all the teenagers did it. He did like people said, held hands with her, went to dates. Even had his first time with her. It was a confusing experience, and kind of… overwhelming. But it was okay. Even so, in the end, she said he didn’t love her. He then asked “why should I love you?”, and got a slap. When he asked her the next day if she wanted to go to a date, she just said it was over, and that she didn’t want an “empty sack for a boyfriend”.

Empty…

Was he, really?

In the middle of the night, while awake for overthinking, something came to him. A memory of his childhood. They were visiting his grampa in his farm. He passed the day helping him tending chickens, and one pecked his finger.

“Does it hurt?” grampa asked when he noticed. He nodded, and grampa took him home for a band aid.

Since them, he never went to the coop again, but wasn’t sure why he avoided the place like a plague. One day, while watering some crops, a chicken came close to him, seemed like grampa left the fence open. He suddenly felt his stomach hurt and fell to the ground, covering his face with his hands. Soon after, grampa found him and took him back home.

“What happened?” grampa asked, and he talked about the stomach ache. He just laughed at it. “It’s no stomach ache. It’s fear. You were afraid the chicken would peek your finger again, were you?”

Afraid…

Why did he remember that now?

He got up. Went to the desk when he had his laptop. Inside a drawer, he found a letter he got years before from his grampa; send to him before he passed away, with a message that said to “open it only when he needed it the most.” He did, and inside he found various papers. They were the deed of his old farm, and with them, a letter.

_“I’m sure this might come as a surprise, but I think it’s for the best. I know you’re a special kid, my boy. I know because I was like you, before. For half of my life I felt empty. Like something was wrong with me. I never understood what was it.”_

Grampa… empty…

_“But everything changed when I came to Stardew Valley. I learned what was missing. Real connections with nature and people. I think that, if you’re reading this, you are of dire need of a change. To understand what is missing in your life. I assure you, you will find your answer if you look for it. You just have to take the step._

_I will love you forever. Remember that, Chris.”_

He felt… something. It was strange. Like his chest were filling with a strange warmth. Where was this coming? Was he sick? Why was he feeling like this? Why was he...

Why was he crying?

He wasn’t sure why he got this letter. But he got something for him, more valuable that the deed and the words. Until now, he just walked an empty life, because that was everything he knew for the longest time.

But if grampa was right, and there was something else… some way to understand what he understood…

…Then maybe it _was_ time for a change.


	2. Uneasiness

He did it.

He actually did it.

It took a call to make sure the farm was available, and a lawyer to put everything in order. It was surreal, leaving his resignation letter to his boss, packing everything (it wasn’t much really, most of the furniture was from the apartment owner) and leaving Zuzu behind. For a moment, Chris felt strange while taking the bus. Like something in his stomach was growling and squeezing inside. He thought that it may be a good idea to get some medicine for it.

Nonetheless, it was interesting, leaving the city behind. Slowly, but surely, grass and trees took the view, with white mountains in the distance. Then the desert. And then a large forest, green and full of flowers. It was a relative long travel, but the sight was worth it.

And then, he was finally here. Both the fence and the little cottage were familiar, but the state of the rest of the farm was… different from what he remembered. The old coop was now run down and full of weeds, there was no sign of the barn, just trees and rocks in its place. No farmlands to be seen. According to the mayor, the soil was still fertile, as long as it was cleaned properly. Still, all this chaos was… strange. Was it really that long since anyone took care of the place?

By recommendation of the mayor, Chris took the rest of the day cleaning some space for plants. Luckily, grandpa’s tools were still in good condition, but they didn’t made the work any easier to his body. He would be sore tomorrow, considering how he felt when finished.

Night came. Already tired, Chris entered the cottage, and finally had the time to take a look to his would-be house from now on. Saying that it was small was an understatement. One room. Literally. The bed in a corner, with a drawer at its side. A big and old tv in front of it, and a table with a cactus over it, with a single chair. Not even a bathroom. Everything was kind of run down, including the walls and floor, and the musky smell of a closed space mixed with humidity was present despite the mayor’s efforts to clean up before his arrival.

The sensation in his stomach again. As he went to a bed that didn’t bother to make, Chris wondered if this was something he ate before coming.

The next day, Chris woke up to the alarm of his phone. Oh right, he never changed it. But he supposed it was ok. Outside, the sun was already out. No time like the present.

One foot in the floor, and he already started to feel the consequences of a body unused to exercise. Ouch, ouch, ouch. As he forced himself to rise and fix himself, he wondered if he would ever get used to it.

Looking around, Chris tried to find the bath… oh right. Wasn’t any. After fixing himself, he went out, remembering an outside bathroom, and then he decided to go to town.

Pelican town was small. Veeery small, at least compared to Zuzu. A medical center, a shop the house next door, some kind of bar and three to four houses. It was kind of strange to Chris to find himself in a place like this, and the weird stomach ache came back. Nonetheless, he decided to go for the seeds anyway.

The place looked… nice. Clean wood floor, wood shelves and… a lot of wood, actually, but looked pretty. There was a man in the counter, checking something, but rapidly reacted to the new face.

—Oh, hi! —the man said, quickly adjusting his glasses—Welcome to Pierre’s. The new farmer, i presume?

Chris nodded, looking elsewhere. It was never easy to make eye contact with people.

—Oh, nice to meet you! I’m Pierre, owner of the best shop in all the valley. And between you and me, the fairest of prices.

—Oh… I see…

—Anyway, i’m glad to have you here. Mister…

—… Chris.

—Chris! Welcome! I’m honored you came first time in the morning to buy. With bed hair and all!

—Oh…—Chris tried to fix his hair. He forgot. No mirror in the house.

—Here, we have a mirror if you need one. Also pretty cheap!

—...Thanks…—the younger man took the offer. His dark brown hair was all over the place, and it took a while to fix it to a half-decent state. Normally he would’ve brushed it until it was straight, but every morning it would curl itself to madness.

Also, he noted his eyes were kind of red, and his brown irises somehow dark. At least more than usual, maybe he was more tired than he thought. His skin, normally pale, was red all over the place…

—… I’ll need something for sunburn…

—Oh? Well, I happen to have a cream that…

—Ok, thanks. Also, seeds.

—Right away, sir!

With a mirror, some ointment, and a bag full of seeds, Chris left the store and went straight to the farm. It was another day of hard work until dusk, and when he came back to the cottage to eat he found a package over his table. There were seeds on it with a note from the mayor. Did he came recently? Or they were there since morning? No idea, but just in case he decided to just plant them before sleep, despite the pain in his arms and legs.

Day three. Chris woke up with a sore body, bad enough that he just could water the plants before getting too tired. He passed the rest of the morning looking at the wet soil, no plants in sight yet. He started to think about these past days. It was chaotic, and he had no idea if he was doing things right. He read a lot before coming, about how to take care of a farm, of plants, of animals. Yet still he wasn’t sure about what he was actually doing here. He came with an idea… or more exactly, a shadow of an idea. But nothing else. When he told his parents the reaction was bad. They said it was a horrible idea, he had no experience nor knowledge. Were his parents right? Was a bad decision? Could he come back?

The stomach ache again. Maybe he was really sick. Chris decided to do something about it.

Five minutes again he was in the door of the hospital. It was a nice, clean place… and mostly empty. The nurse in the counter was reading something, until he came to her.

—Excuse me.

—Huh? —the girl raised her head, somehow surprised—Oh, I’m sorry—she said, leaving her book aside—How may I help you? Do you need some vitamins or…?

—I wanted to see the doctor—interrupted him, eyes in the counter—. I know I don’t have an appointment, but…

—Oh, it won’t be a problem—she smiled—. Please wait here—the nurse said, before going through a door behind her. Chris sat down, looking to a poster about flu prevention.

Minutes later, the nurse came through another door, inviting him to come in. He went with her to a bed and told him to wait a little.

Chris took a moment to look around. The place was as nice as the entrance, almost all white. It was somehow soothing, maybe because his old apartment had walls of the same color. He then started thinking about his old place and the things he left there. And the stomach ache came again.

—Excuse me—a voice behind here. It was a man with a moustache, glasses and a coat. The doctor, he supposed.

—Are you the doctor?—Chris asked, eyes in his coat.

—Yes. I’m Harvey. Are you the new farmer? —he nodded—. I see. Maru didn’t give me your name…

—Chris.

—Oh, Nice to meet you, Chris, and welcome to Pelican Town. It’s a small place compared to the city, but it’s a good one to live.

—I see.

—… Okay then… uhm… what brought you here?

—I’m sore. Farm work, I guess.

—Is it bad?

—Not really.

—Very well… then i’ll give you some ointment and a drink to give you some energy. Anything else?

—Yeah. I have a stomach ache.

—… Stomach ache?

—Yeah. It’s been going for a while.

—I see. Let me check you. Please lay down on your back—Chris did as he was told, and the doctor started checking his stomach—. Tell me, did you eat anything strange recently?

—Not really.

—I understand. What about exercises that could’ve hurt you?

—No, it started before coming here.

—Oh? When exactly?

—I think… when i decided to take the farm.

—I see…—the doctor stopped for a moment—Tell me, does it happen in a specific time?

—Not really… just at random.

—Are you thinking anything in particular when the pain starts?

—Well…—Chris tried to think about it—generally… when i think about what i have to do or gonna do about the farm… or what i had before coming here.

—I understand. I’ll double check just in case, but it seems that your stomach is fine. The cause may not be physical.

—… Then what is it? —Chris asked, sitting in the bed.

—Well i would say it’s stress. You feel uneasy about the recent changes in your life, right?

—…Uneasy... —Chris muttered, thinking. Is… this how uneasiness feels?

—Don’t worry. It’s a big transition, so it’s normal to feel like this, but once you adjust to the new rhythm you’ll do better, I’m sure of it.

—…

—… Mister Chris?

—I get it. Thank you.

With a muscle drink, ointment and some pills in case the stomach ache went worse, Chris left the hospital. He walked in a daze, thinking, until he noticed he was just in front of the road. He thought about what he had. His doubts. The opinion of his parents. But now the pain wasn’t as bad as before.

—Uneasiness feels like a stomach ache…—he said to himself, before going back to the farm.


	3. Enjoyment

Days after, Chris woke up to an unexpected sight: his seed sprouted! They were like tiny points of green in the soil, and for a few minutes he could only watch them like some kind of spectacle. It took him another minute to react and finally water the plants.

He then had a quick breakfast before going back to his little things. They were fascinating for some reason he couldn't exactly tell. He remembered when he was little, when he took care of a plant for a science project. He did it because he just had to. There was nothing particularly interesting about that plant, but those little sprouts were different for some reason. He just watched them like he was expecting them to suddenly grow, like he would miss something important if he looked away. There was also something in his stomach, tense and moving, but it was different from uneasiness. That was painful. This was… pleasant?

After a while, he finally decided to do something else, looking after plants all day wouldn’t be productive after all. So he dedicated the rest of the morning to break some rocks and remove the weeds close to his plants.

After noon he went to town to have some lunch. Until now he just had things bought in the store, but without a kitchen he couldn’t do much more than cold salads or instant noodles. He then remembered something the mayor said one day he came to the farm to check on him: There was a saloon in here with good food. It wasn’t hard to find the place (after all, with so few building it was kind of impossible to get lost), and once in the door, he opened it slowly, trying not to make too much noise.

The place looked kind of dark and… empty. He supposed it was too early. But looked clean and well maintained, and had an interesting atmosphere. He decided to sit down in one of the tables and wait, looking around at the decorations in the walls.

A while later, footsteps came from the inside, and someone appeared from a door in the back. The person , distracted, turned on some lights and started to clean up. It took him a while to realize there was someone in a table, looking at the still closed windows.

—Oh… uh, excuse me…—said the man. Chris looked at him… well more like at his general direction.

—This is the saloon, right?

—Well-yes, yes, right. I’m sorry, normally it’s already open, but I had some… by the way, how long have you been here?

—A while.

—… I see. Well, welcome to the Sardrop Saloon! I’m Gus, nice to meet you mister!

—I'm Chris.

—Oh? Ah, you’re the new farmer!

—Yes.

—Glad to meet you, I hadn’t the pleasure to greet you before.

—It’s okay.

—Well then, I’ll get you the menu so you can order.

Chris took his time checking his options, and after a while finally ordered some spaghetti and a salad, with coffee for a drink. The owner then went to prepare everything right there in a space who acted as kitchen. A few minutes later, he brought the meal to the table.

—Enjoy!

Everything smelled… good. In the city, he would always have lunch at his work, and noodles or spaghetti in the weekend. He wasn’t a great cook, so he never did anything else, or it was more accurate to say that he had no interest in cooking. But the moment he took a bite, he felt strange. The sauce was… amazing. And the spaghetti soft, and a little firm. Better than anything he made.

—Good, huh? —said the owner, smiling at him. Chris nodded, before attacking his meal again.

After eating, he left in a strange daze, thinking about the food. Even the coffee was good, there was no way that was instant. He passed the rest of the evening wondering how the owner did it to make such a good meal, and felt like he wanted tomorrow to come sooner so he could taste that again.

The next day, exactly at noon, Chris was outside the saloon already. The owner smiled when he asked for another plate of spaghetti. And the next day. And the next to that one.

—Sir, I don’t think I’ve met anyone who loved that much my spaghetti besides Robin—said the owner after the fifth time—, but I think you should have something else. It’s not good for you to only eat spaghetti, you know.

—But spaghetti is good—said Chris. The other laughed at the comment.

—Well then, maybe you’ll think my other meals are good?

Suddenly, Chris felt interested.

During the next days, the farmer had at least half of the menu. Hashbrowns , hamburguers, salmon, and everything was great. All the time, the farmer appeared at noon and dug in like crazy. The owned never said anything about it. Maybe because he was a good client, he thought.

—You’re such a happy eater, mister farmer—said the owner one day. Chris stopped for a second, cheeks full of rice like a squirrel.

—… Am i? —asked him, after swallowing.

—Yeah!

Chris took some time to think.

—… I don’t know. I never particularly cared about food before.

—Really?

—I think it’s your food that makes it.

—Oh! Thank you, that’s a good compliment.

—Plus, you never make much questions and only talk when I want to. That’s good.

The owner nodded, smiling at himself.

—Well, you kind of get a good eye for the clients after so long working in the trade.

Chris kept eating his risotto for a while, but suddenly stopped. Then he started to think about something. The owner should’ve noticed, because he stopped cleaning his cups and stared at him a bit.

—Everything’s okay?

—… Yes… I was just thinking. Thanks for the meal—said Chris before paying, leaving in a hurry.

Back in the farm, he rushed straight to his cottage, and went to bed. Not to sleep, but to think about the past days. He tried to remember if he was so eager to eat like now when he was younger, but nothing specific came to him. After all, while working, he always ate for necessity, and when he lived with his parents he just ate because they told him to. He just had vague memories of food, and the concept of it as something causing him this reaction was just… confusing.

He ended up thinking about it until he fell asleep in his bed.

During the night, he dreamed. A dream about his past. He was with his grandpa. He couldn’t see his face or listen to his voice. In the dream, everything was almost white.

His grandpa was taking him somewhere. It was a nice place, and big for him. There, someone gave him something. A plate of spaghetti. It was good. So good he ate it really fast. His grandpa smiled at him, and said someone to the owner…

The owner…

Chris woke up five seconds before the alarm. He felt… something. Not sure what. But he wanted to eat spaghetti. He just knew.

After a half-assed effort to water his plants and clean the place, he went to the saloon as always. The owner was already there, and wave him hello.

—What will it be today? —he asked. Chris decided to sit in the counter instead of the table. The owner seemed surprise for a second.

—Spaghetti—he asked, receiving a smile and a nod in return.

A bit later, his meal came. He ate slowly, wanting to savor it with care. The sensation… he was…

—Are you okay today?

—… Yes? Why?

—You’re eating so slowly. Normally you devour your meal real fast.

—I see.

Chris fell silent, stopping seconds later.

—… What would you call someone who goes to the same place everyday, eats the same food, and keeps coming back?

—A satisfied customer? —the owner said, somehow confused.

—No. I mean, why he does it.?

—Well… —the man thought about it—Maybe because he enjoys it!

—… Enjoy… it…

—Well, yeah. It's really simple. Say, do you like my food, mister farmer?

Chris thought about it. It made sense. After all, he came everyday because he wanted the food. He wanted to eat it, not by necessity. He simply… liked it. Enjoyed it.

"So _this_ is how it is when you like something." he thought.

—… I like it—said Chris—. Mister.

—Yeah?

—… What’s your name? —he asked, trying for a second to look at the man in the eyes. He had a moustache, and brown, short hair, kind of curly. He looked big and somehow like a bear.

It was kind of comforting.

—Gus, mister—he said, laughing—. I told you the first day.

—I’m bad with names.

—Hopefully you’ll remember for now on.

—I’ll try.

Chris went back to eat, now like always. He finished fast, and then asked for a coffee.

—How do you make everything this good? —he asked, after tasting his drink.

—Well, first, thank you. Second, I just do everything with care and love. At least, it’s my policy.

—... If I bring you some vegetables, can you do something with them?

—You mean from your farm? Of course! It would be interesting.

Chris nodded, feeling the pleasant sensation in his stomach. He realized then that he always felt it when coming to the saloon. Taking a sip of his coffee, he thought about a meal made with his vegetables. He… liked… the idea.

Yes, he liked that.

**Author's Note:**

> This began as an exercise to practice my writing, but i just loved it too much to leave it at that. So here, hopefully i can do something this fandom i love will like about a theme very interesting for me and my favourite doctor <3 (Because there's not enough HarvxM!Farmer here (?))
> 
> By the way, english isn't my native language, so constructive criticism would be really appreciated. Hope you have a great day, people!


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